The tour was conducted by Lena, who had a mask of professionalism that was no match for the monumental effort required to not blatantly stare at my face.
She walked us through the cardio floor, the weights section, the stretching area, the private studios, and the juice bar, narrating the features of each with the well-practiced flow of a verbal script that had been memorized and repeated a hundred times.
The floor was not empty.
It was midday, and Lena had said midday was quieter, and she was right in the sense that quieter was a relative term. There were perhaps thirty women on the cardio floor when we walked through. Treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines. The usual mechanical ruckus of a gym.
We walked in.
The thumping of the machines slowed perceptibly.
Not all at once, nothing as obvious as that.
It was more that the volume dropped in a rippling wave. A head turned, then another. A woman on a rowing machine caught her oar wrong and lurched forward before catching herself.
Someone on a treadmill reached for the handrail.
Lena maintained her commentary without missing a beat, giving a pleasant greeting or nod or two in acknowledgement, but continuing onward.
Willow walked slightly too close to my left shoulder.
I looked straight ahead, because looking at the room would have made it a thing, and making it a thing was the fastest route to everyone deciding it was a thing.
"The weights floor is just through here." Lena said, pushing open a set of double doors.
The weights floor was larger, with more space between equipment.
A woman doing lat pulldowns caught a glimpse of me in the mirror in front of her, held the bar slightly too long on the way back up, and the whole stack clattered down with a noise that echoed off the ceiling.
She spent the next several seconds examining the machine as though looking for a mechanical fault.
"Great space." I said to Lena.
"Thank you." Lena nodded with a small smile. "We just replaced the cable systems last spring."
Willow was doing her forced composure walk, trying to appear completely unbothered by her surroundings.
She was extremely bothered by her surroundings.
"The free weights are along the far wall." Lena continued, gesturing. "Dumbbells in ascending order from left to right. Barbells and plates are on the rack system in the back. If you haven't worked with free weights before, we strongly recommend starting with one of our trainers."
"I'll keep that in mind." I said.
We passed a woman doing dumbbell curls who, upon becoming aware of my proximity, attempted to rack her weight and miscalculated the distance by about six inches.
The dumbbell hit the rubber floor with a dense, resonant thud.
"Sorry..." She apologized, to no one in particular.
"No worries." I replied with a nod of acknowledgement, because I was within earshot and it seemed rude not to.
She stared at me for a second and a half before remembering she was a person in a gym and had come here for a reason.
Lena decided to simply not acknowledge anything happening in her peripheral vision, though she did gauge my reactions on many occasions.
"And through here is the stretching area." She gestured. "Which connects to the studios on the far end."
We followed her through.
Willow caught my arm as we walked, not grabbing it, just a light touch at the elbow. I let her keep it there. It was probably helping her more than it was inconveniencing me, and on balance, she'd been remarkably restrained today.
"Everything alright, Mom?" I asked, my tone conversational.
"Everything's fine, dear." She replied, her own tone equally conversational. "Just... making sure you don't get lost."
It was a transparent excuse, but I let it pass.
The stretching area was an open space with yoga mats, foam rollers, and a wall of stability balls.
Three women were mid-squat when we entered. All of them, with varying degrees of subtlety, straightened up and looked.
One, who had been holding a particularly deep pose, wobbled and had to take a step to catch her balance.
"It's very important to stretch before a workout." Lena said, to the room at large. "Helps prevent injury and improves flexibility."
One of the women, a brunette with a long, athletic build, looked at me.
Then at my mother, whose hand was still on my arm.
Then at Lena.
Then back at me.
It took her a good ten seconds of deliberation before she finally found a suitable, polite, non-aggressive opening to what must have been a million conflicting thoughts.
"A man...?!"
She said out loud, as if she was seeing a unicorn at the supermarket checkout. Not in a threatening way, but in a what-the-fuck-is-happening-right-now sort of way.
And, well, it was fair given the circumstances. For a male to step foot in here, was akin to bringing a child into a construction site.
"He's with us." Lena's smile didn't waver, though it did stiffen up. "Potential new member."
"He's... with us." The brunette repeated, to herself, as if that was the most interesting thing she'd heard.
Willow's grip on my arm tightened by a fraction. I could feel the tension in her fingers.
The women, all wearing tight-fitting sportswear that left very little to the imagination, were now all staring, not quite openly, but very, very obviously.
Some continued with their yoga sequences, stretching like cats, their backs arching gracefully.
I didn't know if there was some provocative and blatant sexual display happening to catch my attention—yet, here we are, ladies and gents.
To these ladies, bending and stretching and displaying their exquisite forms, this was their bread and butter; not something to be ashamed or shy about. I didn't read their minds to determine that, merely observed from what my senses told me.
They were showing off. A peacock display, or should I say peahens.
I've seen a larger display of nudity from women in this world, online and offline, than the men. Not that I wanted to see men naked, but it was an interesting observation.
As for my mother? She didn't speak. But I sensed her cold displeasure all the same.
I decided not to look further or listen to the voices in my head telling me to move on. That was the smart play. Part of me wished to stare more at those sensual bodies of the attractive peahens as they put on this show, but I still had that 'don't stare too much or there would be consequences' principle at the back of my skull.
So, I smiled as politely as I could and never let my eyes stray. Not that it would mean anything, but at least no one could complain.
"Enjoy your time." I offered as we passed through the stretching area.
The one woman closest to me offered me a wide, perfect, absolutely radiant smile. She unconsciously took a step forward, as if in an attempt to approach me.
However, another woman grabbed onto her shoulders and gently stopped her.
Lena wrapped up the tour in record time after that.
Back through the changing rooms. Up the escalator. Past the juice bar with its tasteful hanging leaves and upbeat electronica soundtrack. We were back at the main desk within five minutes.
Willow had said very little for the past ten minutes, which in my limited but intensive experience of her was either a sign that she was processing something or had resigned herself to an outcome she couldn't change. Both were valid. I'd take either.
"Then, if you're satisfied with the facilities, that concludes the tour."
"Great. What does an annual membership cost?"
Willow hadn't let go of my arm, but she'd relaxed somewhat once we'd exited the stretching area, perhaps reasoning that her role as my chaperone was over for the day.
"Well... for a male member, it's—"
"The same price as for everyone else." I said with a flat, uncompromising tone.
Lena hesitated.
"Please."
I insisted.
Lena cleared her throat, pushed up the bridge of her reading glasses, and spoke the magical number out loud. "One thousand a year, the enrollment fee is included."
I nodded, briefly glancing at my mother. I had to somewhat defer to the matriarch, even if I'd already made my decision.
"Damien... are you sure?"
Lena and Pryia looked at me as well, almost as if they were silently asking the same question as well.
"I'd like to, Mom. Would you support me?"
Her pale silver eyes stared deep into my soul, and she exhaled. It was an obvious yes, of course, it'd come sooner or later, her son would become a mature independent man at some point. But if I had her support, it would make things so much easier on the both of us.
"Fine..."
Willow took out her credit card. I briefly felt bad for the cost, but had to remind myself that I came from a good and well-off family. The neighborhood itself had that typical rich folks laugh.
"Fantastic." I could see the surprise and relief in Lena's face and, strangely, in Priya's. Her hands, once white, regained color and resumed their regular rhythm, inputting some data in the computer.
"Wonderful. Here is the digital key to access the facilities, please kindly check the expiration date and contact us when the card is no longer functional." Lena handed me a little black fob attached to a neck cord. "On behalf of FitForm, we appreciate your cooperation with the membership protocols, and we're happy to have you join us."
"Glad to be here."
I smiled brightly as I looked at the card with the familiar F logo of the FitForm.
My mother, who had just made the payment on my behalf, remained expressionless. It was clear that she wasn't too happy about paying one thousand USD a year for her only son to be surrounded by 'fit, gorgeous women', though if I had to choose the appropriate adjective for my new trainer buddies, 'sensational' would be a better term.
I wasn't at the gym for eye candy, though.
I was going to commit to my resolution and spend some sweat and muscles to improve my body. I've never cared about aesthetics, the ability to achieve and maintain a great physique wasn't something I could easily do with all the overtime I was subjected to before my death.
"When will you be starting?"
Lena inquired.
"Right about now, I'm feeling really enthusiastic." I responded truthfully. "Mom?"
"... now is alright." She agreed, after a slight pause.
"I'll accompany you outside then." I adjusted my bag, and turned to the receptionists. "Thank you for your patience."
"Anytime. We hope you have a pleasant workout, Mr. Winters."
It was only when we left the building that I noticed I was still holding the Considerate Coverage catalog. I almost threw it away. Then a better idea occurred to me.
"Mom, why don't you take a look at this? See if there's anything that suits your tastes." I offered her the catalog with a straight face.
Willow took it with her delicate fingers. She looked at the cover—a fully clothed male model in a baggy turtleneck, sweatpants, with a serious expression on his face. "Would you consider wearing something like this, dear? For your safety..."
"Maybe." I replied vaguely; I wanted to give the woman some sense of control. A ticking bomb she could manage. "If it's not too hot."
I let her mull over the catalog as we walked for a minute or so, out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. That would be where we parted ways for an hour or so until I headed back home as well.
We stood there for a minute, both of us not knowing what to do, and that's when it hit me.
"Are you going to pick me up?"
"I can, if you'd like." She responded almost immediately, and with genuine willingness as well.
"I'll just text you when I'm done."
"I'll be waiting."
Willow stared at me for the longest moment. I was gradually easing the burden on her shoulders.
She hesitated to leave, though. Her eyes were slightly moist, and she had this maternal, protective aura around her.
"Do you need me to stay, Damien? I can stay. I can wait for you in the lounge." She said, a little too eagerly. "Read a book or something."
"No, it's fine, Mom. You'll just distract me."
"I won't. I promise. I can just—"
"Mom." I gave her a little smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Go home. I'll be okay. I promise."
Willow's shoulders sagged just a little. That was it. The moment where a mother realizes her child is an individual, and is about to step out of her sight, unattended, in a world that is far from gentle.
"Alright." She finally relented. "One hour. Text me. Don't talk to strangers. And if anyone bothers you, you call me. Or the police. Or both."
"I will."
And with that, she turned, about to walk away.
"Mom?" I called out.
She turned back to me.
I hesitated as well, not to say something, but to actually do something. I exhaled, took an unexpected step forward, and wrapped my arms around her in a hug.
It was an impulsive move. And maybe a little manipulative. But the hug I gave her was sincere.
I didn't know what her relationship was like with Damien, or if she was even a hugger, but she seemed to stiffen at first. Her hands hovered for a second before gently resting on my back.
It was an awkward, slightly clumsy hug. But it was also a hug.
"Thank you."
I murmured, and then I was off, heading back to the premises.